Fishing
by Arion Hunter
Summary: Ever wondered what really happens when someon parodys yaoi fangirls and makes otoko ai? What happens when the story's actually legible? Well, now you can find out.


After reading the sudden influx of odd pairings in G Gundam fan fiction, I decided to write a short parody involving one of the absolute worst/odd couplings ever. This is the the finished product. If you have the urge to wash your eyes out with salt water after the experience, just think: There were lots of other pairings and subjects I could have chosen from.   
  
Also, this is in fact not yaoi, but otoko ai, as I have been corrected by several of my more prolific Japansese-speaking acquaintances.

** Fishing**

The master sighed as Clive pulled out the ancient bar rag for the third time that night. Today was a good day; at least, it had been.

"Slow Night, eh?" The master mumbled into his sake. For a master, with thousands of escapades to his credit (some would call him undefeated even), to say that tonight was a slow night was a gross understatement. That meant the bar was abandoned and had been for most of the night. This distressed the master somewhat, because he had spent an hour preparing for tonight and Fresh Lilac and Mango shampoo could not be wasted. He smiled and sniffed the tip of his braid, a happy smile appearing on his faces as he reminisced of his past conquests. This smell used to draw people like onlookers to a car crash, and had wrangled some of his best catches yet. But his expression turned sour as he thought of the brash, socially inept young men, like his impudent pupil, who constantly stole all the good fish for themselves.

The graying bartender smiled ruefully at his longtime customer. "Not having much luck lately, ol' boy?"

"Is it just me Clive, or are they getting uglier with each passing year. I mean, the occasional leather vest and gold earring were okay, but now__It's embarrassing. You get my drift?" He punctuated his words with a sip of warm sake.

Clive shook his head and shrugged. "I'm just a simple bartender. I serve beer and give free counseling. I don't get paid to appraise."

The master snorted, and continued to sip his sake, his face never loosing its sullen look. Clive shrugged inwardly and continued wiping down the bar. You couldn't save a broken man.

The neon 'Open' sign flickered, an accurate reflection of the mood of the bar. Clive growled in irritation and walked over to jimmy the cord, making a mental note to replace the sign as soon as possible. That's when he saw him. His walk was slow and deliberate, but like all people trying to remain oblivious, it only made him more noticeable. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes from view. Clive smiled inwardly. The master would love this guy, no doubt. He wasn't going to be easy to crack, but the master loved a challenge.

There was a jingle, and instantly, his face wore the open, friendly smile of someone looking for a little fun. There was no transition phase anymore. He could switch moods like someone could switch favorite numbers. He slowly sauntered over to where the stranger had taken a seat, slowly absorbing all of him. He wore a dark, full-length trench coat, but his feet were in traditional sandals of a martial artist. There was no jewelry, the master was happy to notice, save a large string of wooden beads around his neck. He was bald, but that could be fixed.

The master flopped down, looking to all the world looking like a little puppy.

"You're new." Clive sighed at the pathetic attempt at a pickup line. Maybe the master really was loosing his touch.

The man nodded mutely and indicated to Clive he would have sake.

The master smiled softly. He established that this guy was new to the scene, which only made drawing him in harder. Now, to find the right lure. "What's your name?"

Searching eyes darted around the bar. "Foster."

"So you're Australian, eh?" The man shrugged, noncommittally.

The master took a slow sip of sake; he would bide his time. "Where do you work?"

This made the man jump involuntarily. He considered, then answered reluctantly "I'm on one of the teams for the semi-finalists."

The master smiled thoughtfully, thumbing his brow "Neo-China, I'm guessing?"

"How did you know?"

"Intuition and those beads. Those are only worn by Buddhists." The master wisely omitted the work 'monks'. Upon seeing the man's nervous expression, he gave him one of his most dashing smiles. "Don't fret, your secret's safe with me."

The lure was in the water. Now to get him to bite. "You know, I'm called the Undefeated of the East. Now why do you guess that?"

The man gave him a vacant look. "Err…"

"Because I always end facing east after I 'conquer' my enemies." The perfect bad joke.

The man smiled softly, but didn't say anything. So he liked the master's seemingly sophomoric efforts. He'd nibbled, but now it was time to get him to bite.

The master signaled for Clive to serve the man and himself another sake "So, how is it being on the Neo Chinese team?"

At this the man saw an opening, and capitalized on it. "Well, the Gundam Fighter lacks discipline, he's constantly running off…" And so began a fifteen minute long rant involving Gundam Fighters, temples, honor, and mummies. The master got a little lost around the mummies, but he just nodded like he really cared, sometimes inserting the random "That's terrible." for good measure. It really didn't matter since the man had bitten down on the bait hard.

The master took an experimental sip of the new drink. "I assume you're a martial artist, correct?"

"I am in fact."

The opening strains of "Kung Fu Fighting" drifted out of the jukebox. "What's your opinion on the best eastern Asian style?"

The minutes ticked by on the clock as the two launched into a long, detailed debate of the different styles' nuances. Several hours and twenty songs later, the master was secure in the knowledge all he had to do was get this fish to the shore, and he'd have his catch. "Hmm… It's getting late, and I bet Clive wants to close before two. Would you like to go to my apartment where we can continue this discussion?"

"But how will we get there?"

"I may not be a white Knight, but I do have the white horse."

The man laughed and stood to pay, but the master shooed him away. "I'll pay."

Clive had just begun to nod off, when he felt a strong hand tap his shoulder. "Clive, put his drinks on my tab."

Clive nodded and waved his hand away as he righted himself. "Good. Now go and have fun, you two."

The door slammed shut behind the pair. The constant flickering subsided into a bright, luminescence neon green glow that illuminated the gloomy outside. Clive smiled. Today was a good day, indeed. 


End file.
